


On Ice

by Asphodelia



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Ed's personal hell, Fix-It, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post 3.22, dreaming/hallucinations, mentions of past ed/isabella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11119380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asphodelia/pseuds/Asphodelia
Summary: The worst part of being turned into a living ice sculpture is definitely the dreams.OR: the deepest circle of hell is a world of ice reserved for traitors.





	On Ice

His awareness of the world was sucked away in what must have been an instant, but which he experienced in slow motion. Colors faded to black, sounds faded to nothing, and soon the only sensory experience that existed for Edward Nygma was a bone-deep feeling of cold. 

And then, very slowly, light crept back in to his world….

The river had frozen over behind him and he had no idea how Oswald planned to push him in. He'd just land on the solid water. Ed remembered then that Oswald didn’t plan to push him in, that he had other plans, but that man with the ice ray wasn’t here anymore. Neither was the red haired girl. They were alone. 

Oswald was smiling at him in a way he shouldn’t have been. It was too bright, too warm.

“I guess we’re always going to be here now. At least we can watch the snow.”

Ed noticed the snow for the first time, falling around them in large white puffs. He put out his hand to catch a flake. It did not melt when it hit his skin, or feel any colder against his hand than the air surrounding it did. Ed was so cold he should have been shivering, but it was like his body had forgotten how.

Oswald approached him, still smiling, and raised a hand to touch his cheek. He was cold too.

“It’s no one’s fault. We are who we are.” 

“I thought your whole point was that you know who you are and I don’t.” That was what he had said, right? It was getting hard to remember. He managed to force a sneer at Oswald, though, even as he neglected to tell him to remove his icy hand. “You think my ‘persona’ is fake, that I’m just fumbling around in the dark looking for an identity.”

Oswald just laughed softly. “You’re a scientist. Trial and error, right? Lots and lots of error.” 

Oswald closed his eyes and leaned up, then, and Ed found himself frozen in place. The kiss never came, though, because suddenly Oswald was leaning away and pulling the covers back over his head. He was being awfully grumpy for someone who Ed was trying to nurse back to health. 

It was cute, though. 

He’d thought that even then. Then? Now. To chase me is frustration and to give me up is despair, what am I?

He was determined to make his patient his friend – there were so many ways in which he needed his guidance – and so he got him a gift to kill, and sang him songs, and tried to provide his own guidance. He had loved his mother, but love was weakness and he would be stronger now.

“For some men, love is a source of strength but for you and I it will always be our most crippling weakness.” As he spoke the words he understood that it was his job, his destiny, to teach this to Oswald. _One way or another._

Oswald didn’t understand his message at first. There was crying and yelling, a knife was drawn, but Ed maintained his ground and Oswald saw sense. Or, Ed thought he saw sense.

They were at his table suddenly, and Oswald was grateful for the lesson even as he obviously didn’t understand because the way he was looking at Ed could only be called adoring. And that wasn’t right, that hadn’t happened yet. Or had it? It was happening, anyways, and now Oswald was leaning across the table in a way Ed knew wasn’t supposed to be happening and which he also knew would only lead to pain for both of them and he wanted to stand up and move away, but there was ice attaching his hands to the table and when he tried to stand –

“Stay right where you are.” It was Oswald’s voice. Or his own. Or, no, that was the guard talking. 

“You still have 15 minutes.” The asylum guard grumbled over the top of his newspaper from his post in the visiting room at Arkham. “Unless you’re sick of him already.” 

Oswald was here, trying to cheer him up. He was being so kind, even though Edward had turned him away when he’d first gotten out of Arkham and wasn’t quite himself. He was also looking for some advice. Ed gave it, but refused to be put in a better mood. He liked that Oswald was trying, though. He supposed this was what it was like to have a real friend. 

Fifteen minutes passed by quickly and then he was taken back to his cell. The door was made of ice, and once it shut behind him it seemed to merge with the ice of the rest of the cell. He had no window, but he knew somehow that it was snowing outside. 

His cot was made of ice too, but there was a blanket that looked warm. It wasn’t. Wrapping himself in it was like burying himself in snow, but he did it anyways. He embraced the cold, and his prison, and he tried to bring the ice deeper into himself so that he could be completely numb. He felt guilty and wrong and stupid. He had been bested. He should have seen this coming and prepared for it. He should have prevented it from coming in the first place. He had built his own prison and now all that was left for him was to hope that the ice took him before his next group therapy session. 

He waited for a long time, and finally he started to feel himself slip away...

But then a guard was there telling him he was free to go. He stumbled his way out of the asylum, confused, until he saw who was waiting for him outside. Oswald was poking his head, and most of his torso, out of the car window in one of the quirkier displays he’d seen from his odd little bird. Ed was saved.

Oswald had come back and released him from his icy prison. 

Ed laughed as the ice castle that had been Arkham Asylum crumbled behind him. Joyfully, he ran to the car. This time it was him that was going to try to get too close and doom them both, but he couldn’t stop. Oswald was here, he was back, and for a moment Ed felt sure that he was really going to be set free from the cold and the persistent feeling that he’d ruined everything, that Oswald had ruined everything, that he was never going to be able to find himself, that he had in fact lost himself and was never going to be able to rebuild. 

He was going to grab Oswald by the lapels of his shirt and, finally, kiss him. But before he could reach him he was being pushed back, choked against a wall by Butch Gilzean before he revealed Ed’s ‘betrayal’. He had hoped the election results would be announced before Butch figured things out and told Oswald – he wanted him to know that he’d won fairly (because of course he was going to win, Ed didn’t doubt it for a second), but he would have preferred not to risk his life in the process. Not that he minded terribly. Oswald didn’t seem to believe that the people could love him, didn’t see himself as something lovable. Ed realized, looking into Oswald’s stunned face past Butch’s gun, that there weren’t many lengths he wouldn’t go to to prove him wrong. 

Oswald was loveable. He was worthy of love. He needed to know that, and Ed found himself pondering that in a way he knew he actually hadn’t. When this was real. Wasn’t it real? On the T.V, the reporter braved a blizzard to tell them that Oswald had won by a landslide, just like Ed had known he would, and Ed pushed aside all thoughts of what was real because this was his favorite bit. This was where he got to explain the riddle. 

The answer was love, of course, and the look on Oswald’s face when he realized that the people of Gotham loved him was _golden_. He resolved to burn it into his memory, to treasure it. Oswald clearly hadn’t felt loved in a long time, and Ed was proud that he was the one that got to fix that. Now, Oswald just needed to know the depth of Ed’s own belief in him. 

Of Ed’s own love for him. 

The thought occurred to him – as it had not, actually, and as it should not now because it was deadly – that of course that was why he knew the people looked on Oswald and loved him. Because he did too. And Oswald was looking at him like the feeling was mutual, and they were already standing so close. 

He grasped Oswald’s ice-cold hand and felt him squeeze back. They shared a smile between them and then, slowly, Ed was leaning down and – 

He was, again, being mowed down and choked by Butch Gilzean. It was short lived this time as Oswald knocked him out. He was on the floor next to Ed in an instant and Ed was sure he was about to be kissed. He didn’t look for a way out anymore, but the kiss still didn’t come because they were suddenly on Oswald’s couch drinking ginger tea. Ed was telling Oswald that he would do anything for him, and he meant it. 

The flames in the fire place were blue and seemed to be sucking the heat out of the room, but Ed wasn’t thinking about any of the little glitches in reality because this was reality. This was absolute truth. If anything, his words weren’t going far enough and even as he could see Oswald believing him totally, even as his best friend was wrapping his arms around him in an icy hug, he knew this wasn’t enough. There was more to be said, more Oswald needed to know, so he pushed him back by his shoulders and opened his mouth to explain. 

He was stopped by a cold finger on his lips and a look of understanding on Oswald’s face. Ed still wanted to say it, but it could come after. They both leaned in, and then suddenly it was Oswald trying to explain himself. They were in the office, and it had been hard for Oswald to reach his desk through the foot of snow on the floor. The weather had gotten so bad lately that it was even snowing inside. 

Oswald was fumbling over something important he needed to tell him and the small part of him that knew this had happened before also knew he should be clueless, but he wasn’t. This was exactly what he had meant to say in the heatless blue light of the fire the other night. Oswald didn’t need to look so nervous. 

_It’s ok, I know, I love you too._ He couldn’t make his mouth say the words. The ice had finally gotten inside him and now it had stopped his tongue. He could do nothing but watch Oswald lose his nerve. The ice might be preventing him from speaking, but this wasn’t going to be another missed opportunity. He didn’t need to speak to tell Oswald his feelings were returned. Love was their most crippling weakness, but that was ok. He didn’t mind having a weakness if that weakness was Oswald. 

He stepped forward, and finally their lips met. Except, it was cold and wrong and when he pulled back he found he had been kissing Kristen. No, Isabella. And Ed did love her. Maybe it was because of her resemblance to Miss Kringle, or maybe it was because of nothing and simply _was_. And, yes, maybe what he felt for her wasn’t rooted as deeply in him as what he felt for Oswald. Maybe she wasn’t a part of him like Oswald was. Maybe it was really just momentary infatuation that would have been over in a few months, if allowed to play itself out. None of that mattered. She was important to him, and as he found himself watching her slide into blackness and oblivion he was angry. Because he knew this was Oswald, this time. 

He wasn’t going to have to agonize over it on the sofa while his best friend pretended to care. He could jump right to making him pay. 

Except, no. No, he didn’t want to do that. He had done that before, hadn’t he? And he had never felt the satisfaction he had thought he would. He had tried to convince himself he had even as he chased it, even as he tried to rebuild himself as someone who Oswald Cobblepot could claim no part of. It had been exhausting and ultimately he had failed. Ultimately, getting revenge on Oswald hadn’t been worth living without him. He could see that now. He had been fully prepared to kill Oswald a second time, even as a part of him had trembled and begged him not to do this to them again. Now, though, now that he had a third chance to get his revenge he wasn’t going to take it. He could see everything so much clearer now. It would be weakness to spare him, but love was weakness and that was ok. It had to be or they would never be able to move forward. 

He still found himself back at the docks with a gun to Oswald’s chest. He didn’t want to pull the trigger. He wanted to throw the gun into the river and pull Oswald close to himself and start trying to fix everything. He pulled the trigger anyways. 

Oswald smiled brightly as blood started pouring out of him. “I told you, silly. We’ll always be here now.” 

He fell back into the river. It was frozen solid, but it shattered when Oswald’s limp body crashed against it. So did the rest of the world. When the darkness began to recede again, he was again caring for an injured Penguin in his apartment. It all happened again. And again. Sometimes the cycle would begin even earlier, on the day he’d spotted Penguin at the GCPD before he had had any concept that they could have a shared future together. But in the vision he would, and Ed the forensic technician would try foolishly to ask out the mobster to no avail. 

Ed became increasingly aware of his feelings for Oswald, and of the fact that the scenes playing out before him were dreams, but he still couldn’t change or disengage from them. Whenever he felt he was getting close to Oswald he would find himself in a different moment, and after too many moments had passed they would again be at the docks. He could never stop himself from shooting. 

He began to wonder if this was hell. He didn't really believe in hell, but that's where the evidence was starting to point...

Then, something strange happened. He was on the sofa trying to pour his heart out to Oswald, to at least promise him he would do anything for him like he knew he was supposed to, but every time he opened his mouth he found himself coughing up bloody ice cubes. That wasn’t what was strange, though. That was one of the milder horrors this endless slideshow liked subjecting him to. No, what was strange was that the room was melting. 

The ceiling went first in one big splash that soaked them both, and then the walls started to go, slowly. Oswald started sinking away into the liquid floor and Ed found himself diving off the couch after him. He tried to swim down after him and found himself instead emerging from the water in the Gotham River. Oswald was looking down at him from the docks, scornfully. He was flanked by that red-headed girl and a woman with a flame thrower. Ed opened his mouth to ask what was happening, but then he was on solid ground and Oswald and the red-head were gone. 

It was just him, soaking wet, sprawled out on the floor of what appeared to some kind of closed restaurant or night club. The woman with the flame thrower was still there and she looked angry. 

“You still want to kill Penguin?” It certainly seemed like she did, for whatever reason. 

He didn’t bother answering her. He needed to find Oswald before the scene changed again and he lost another chance. 

Walking was difficult. He was glad when he found a wall to brace himself against. He didn’t know where he was going, but he kept moving. He found a hallway, and then an office, and then Oswald looking over some paper work with that same red-haired girl from the docks. 

They both looked at him in surprise. Oswald reached for a knife on his desk, and while the girl didn’t reach for any weapon she did look very convinced of her ability to defend Oswald if she had to. She didn’t have to, of course, but Ed appreciated that she would have tried. 

Ed stumbled into the room on unsteady legs, made doubly so by the way his soaking wet shoes were slipping on the hardwood. He made his way around the desk and to Oswald. 

“I suppose we’ll need to have another _talk_ with Bridget. Now, Ed, you’re outnumbered and unarmed, so –“ 

Ed ignored the knife pointed at him and leaned forward, grabbing the sides of Oswald’s face. Then, finally, he was kissing him. 

Oswald was warm and soft and completely stunned. He did not kiss back, but he didn’t stab Ed either. Or push him away. Time didn’t jump forwards. This was real. This was the most real anything had ever been. And, god, did he mention that Oswald was warm? Ed had forgotten what ‘warm’ felt like. He kissed Oswald long and deep and desperate from the hundreds of times he had tried and been thwarted. When he stopped he smiled dopily, sleepily, and pressed their foreheads together. 

“What are you _doing_ Ed?” 

“Loving you. Now that I can. Now that I know I can, that I do.” 

There was more to say, more to do, but Ed was exhausted. Maybe he hadn’t been conscious for a long time, but he hadn’t exactly been resting either. The world faded away again as he collapsed against Oswald, but this time the dark was warm and comforting. Oswald would have to decide whether to keep him around or have him frozen again, but Ed wasn’t worried. He didn’t mind being at Oswald’s mercy right then. 

They had a long way to go and a lot to rebuild, and Ed couldn’t wait to get started. He’d spent too much time running in circles, trying to build up a lie. He was ready to start building something real, ready to start moving forwards. They’d been frozen at the docks for too long. 

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at a fix-it. Hope you liked it!
> 
> I may need to edit this in the morning, I'm always nervous about posting right when I'm finished but I really want to get this up.


End file.
